“Please.” Her voice softened. “You can’t leave me out here by myself. I might slip up and start crying and then she’ll know.”
I debated with my conscience for the next five seconds, capped the polish and hauled open the door. “I’ll play Truth or Dare, but if she mentions Spin the Bottle, you’re on your own.”
She grinned. “You’re the best friend a vamp could have.”
“Don’t remind me.”
Barry had finished his opening act and Kid Rock came on as the headlining attraction. The bump and grind melody of “Cowboy” vibrated the air around me and sent a burst of desire pulsing from my knees to my shoulders. My toes sank in the sand. The breeze whispered across my bare skin and made the concho fringe on my bikini tinkle.
Kid kept wailing about the sunshine shining, and every nerve in my body wound tight. Need pulsed through me. I felt sexy. Seductive. Ready.
As if on cue, the deep, mesmerizing voice sounded behind me.
“Take off the corset.”
“Your wish is my—Wait a sec. A corset?”
I glanced down. Sure enough, the bikini was gone. Instead, I wore a white lace-up, complete with drawstring pantaloons.
The song faded and the wind picked up, whipping at me and plastering the thin material to my skin. I wiggled my toes. Hard, rough wood scraped the bottom of my feet. The floor seemed to tilt and I grasped at the handrail as a wave of seawater welled up over the side and drenched me.
Forget my beach oasis. I was standing at the helm of a pirate ship (à la Rudolfo and Gwen). My heart skipped its next beat as I turned to face my kidnapper.
Okay, so this wasn’t so bad.
Ty’s blue eyes gleamed with neonlike intensity. His long, dark hair hung loose around his shoulders, framing his handsome face. He was bare-chested, his shoulders broad, his arms ripped. He wore only a pair of tight black pants that left little doubt that he wanted me.
“Kiss me,” he commanded, and I stepped forward. My arms slid around his neck and I tilted my head back. I closed my eyes and brushed my lips against his—
“Help!” The cry shattered the whole Stockholm thing I had going on. My eyes snapped open and I twisted around in time to see Esther struggling in the water. Only it wasn’t water. It was a thick, sticky crimson that sucked at her.
I tried to jump in, but Ty’s arm stole around my waist and jerked me back against his body. He held me immobile while the blood sucked Esther under.
I struggled and the arm clamped tighter.
“Forget about her, dear. You shouldn’t be running around, worrying over a lowly made vampire.”
Dear?
I twisted, only to find my mother standing behind me. And Nina. And Mandy, who carried a two-headed baby who looked like Eddie Munster and Lawrence Welk.
My eyes snapped open to the dim light of the motel room. I sprawled in the one and only chair. Nina and my mother were piled on the bed, while Mandy snored softly on the roll-away. There wasn’t a two-headed baby in sight.
I glanced at the clock. It was five thirty A.M. Still an hour until daybreak. The truth that Mandy shaved her legs only during the summer, Nina had a secret crush on David Hasselhoff, and my ma had once dated Napoleon had obviously been too much excitement for one night. They’d crashed early.
Stretching my sore neck (we’re talking one of those plastic upright chairs), I pushed to my feet. My heart chugged like a freight train and my nerves buzzed.
I downed half of one of the bottles that my mother had brought, but it did little to ease the tightening in my stomach.
I could still feel the sea salt on my skin and smell the bloody sea surrounding me. Esther’s image alternated with Eddie and Lawrence, and I knew there was no way I was going to fall asleep right now.
I grabbed my purse and my cell and went out for a walk.
At least I intended to walk. To clear my head. To relax.
Before I knew it, I was standing outside the Quick Pick. The store had not opened up yet so Merlin’s men were nowhere in sight.
They were keeping an eye on Mordred and he couldn’t very well buy cigarettes if the place was closed.
I stood in the parking lot in the exact spot I’d seen Mordred parked. The smell of dried blood still hung in the air and my chest tightened.
The back of my eyes burned and I blinked. I turned and was about to walk the perimeter of the store once again, when I spotted a discarded matchbook.
Kneeling, I dusted off the faded white cardboard and stared at the gold script. The Waldorf.
My eyes went blurry again. Crazy, I know. It was a used-up matchbook, for Damien’s sake. It wasn’t like I’d found a finger or an ear or something equally gross.
Not yet, that is.
Panic rolled through me and I pushed to my feet. I backtracked Mordred’s steps to the front door of the store, my eyes peeled for anything else he might have dropped. A receipt. A room key. A map to his present location.
Other than a few cigarette butts and the wrapping from a Slim Jim, I spotted nothing.
I was just about to call it quits and head back to the motel when a strange awareness shot up my spine. My hands shook and my heart paused. I tried to whirl, but a hand shot out, gripped the back of my neck and hauled me backward.
Here we go again.
“Come on,” I blurted as I found myself yanked backward, across the street and into the woods. “The store’s closed and Mordred’s nowhere in sight. This totally does not count.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“And you’re a cheap, fashion clueless goon …”
My words stalled as two important points registered in my panicked brain. One, I could still feel my legs (i.e., no sedative poking me in the ass) and two, the familiar voice wasn’t anywhere close to what I remembered from my earlier run-in with Cheap and Cheaper.
No, this one was deep. Mesmerizing. And really, really pissed.
“I knew you couldn’t keep your nose out of it,” Ty growled. “I knew it.”
He whirled me around and my gaze did a quick up and down to make sure it was him.
Black jeans outlined his long, muscular legs. A black leather vest—and nothing but the vest—emphasized his broad shoulders and rock-hard chest. He had his hair pulled back in a ponytail. A black Stetson sat low on his forehead, and I had the crazy urge to yell Ride ’em, cowgirl and hop on.
While I was cruising Smut Lane, Ty had already made a detour onto Mad as Hell Boulevard.
He quickly killed the sliver of hope that this was another one of my fantasies. His mouth drew into a thin line. His eyes narrowed into a glare that could cut the average human to the quick.
But I was a vampire. An equal match. A superior one if you bought all the hype my parents had dished out over the years.
I squared my shoulders and summoned my most haughty expression. “Since when did you become my boss?”
“You’re sinking into something you don’t understand. You have to back off.” When I opened my mouth, he held up a hand. “Don’t give me that crap about being here on business. I know why you’re here. Half of fucking New York knows why you’re here.”
I started to deny it but my conscience made me clench. “I have a new client. He owns a ranch outside of town. I’m hooking him up with several eternity mates.”
“I don’t care if you’re hooking up the Loch Ness Monster. You need to give this up and go home before you find yourself in even deeper.”
“I can’t just leave. He’s already paid me a full retainer.”
That, and Esther needed me.
“It’s too late for her,” he said, and I knew he’d picked up on my thoughts loud and clear.
“She won’t actually die until the ritual. That gives me almost a week to find her.” I wanted to beg for his help, but I knew Merlin wouldn’t think twice about killing Ty. Like every Other out there, he considered all made vampires expendable. Worthless.
“The only reason Merlin hasn’t killed you is because you’re born,” Ty sa
id, confirming my thoughts. “He would have to explain himself to too many higher-ups. Unless he had proof that you interfered. Then he could justify his actions.”
“You mean his warning wasn’t just a warning?”
“What do you mean?”
“I sort of ran into Merlin. He warned me to stay away from Mordred. Actually, he did more than warn me. He had a video camera set up.” The reality of what had happened crashed down around me and my hands trembled. “He said it was to record the apprehension so his men could use it as a training film. But it wasn’t, was it? He wanted a play-by-play of me crossing the line.”
And I’d given it to him.
“I know you like Esther.” Ty’s voice drew me out of the mental ass-kicking I was currently giving myself. “But is that enough to risk your own afterlife?” He shook his head. “For once, stop fighting what you are, Lil, and go with it. Put yourself first.”
Easier said than done.
I’d been born with a conscience in addition to my crackerjack fashion sense. I couldn’t even feed Killer generic cat food. I sure as hell didn’t stand a chance of living an eternity with Esther’s death on my conscience.
“Please.” Ty’s gaze gleamed with emotion and my chest hitched.
“Why are you here?” I heard myself ask.
“To talk some sense into you.”
“But why?” The question hung between us for several long moments as indecision warred in Ty’s gaze.
You know why. The answer finally whispered through my head.
“I want to hear you say it. If you’re really committed to this relationship, then stop holding back.”
“Ditto.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You kept your whereabouts a secret and lied to me. That doesn’t say much for commitment.”
“That’s different.”
“Is it?”
Duh. Esther’s afterlife was at stake and I’d been lying and withholding for a good cause. Didn’t he get that?
Hurt flashed in his gaze.
Obviously not.
Heat crept up my neck and my heart hitched, and like all vampires in denial, I switched from defense to offense. “Let’s be honest. My lying isn’t the real issue here. It’s you—”
“Don’t do this,” he warned. “It’s not the time or the place.”
As if I didn’t know that.
But I was sick of worrying and wondering and feeling so incredibly helpless. It was time to do something. If I couldn’t find Esther or reconcile Nina and Rob, I could at least satisfy my own curiosity.
He loves me, he loves me not?
I felt as if I’d spent my entire afterlife standing on the outside. I was an outsider. A vampire in a human world. A vampire who sorta, kinda, occasionally thought about what it would be like to be human. I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to know what it felt like to bask on a beach and shop during the daytime and eat a chocolate fudge brownie and fall in love.
I wanted to know what it felt like to be loved.
And if Ty couldn’t give me that, I needed to know.
“You’re a commitment-phobe.” There. I’d said it. Now the burden of proof was on him.
Come on, I silently begged. Drop to one knee and tell me how wrong I am. Tell me that you love me and that I’m the only vampire in the world for you.
His eyes narrowed to tiny slits and the muscle in his right jaw started a frantic tick. “What did you just say?”
I summoned my courage. “You heard me. I said you’re a commitment-phobe.”
“I’m a commitment-phobe? You won’t even introduce me to your mother.”
I bristled. “I’m waiting for the right time.”
“As in never.”
“As in I want to be one hundred percent sure that you’re not just using me for a little fun.”
“Babe, there’s nothing fun about being with you. Trust me, it’s work. Hard fucking work.”
The urge to smack him was sudden and fierce. At the same time, I feared my hand coming into contact with his handsome face and rough skin and, well, I am a creature of sexual habit. I ignored the thought and focused on my righteous anger. “What is it with you? Why can’t you just tell me what you’re feeling?”
“I’ll do you one better. I’ll show you.” To prove his point, he dipped his head. His mouth captured mine and his tongue pushed deep.
My hands snaked around his neck and my fingers plunged into the silky thickness of his hair.
What? The man could kiss.
He pulled me close, his hands dragging down my spine to cup my ass and fit my pelvis more closely to his. Our bodies melded together for several fast, furious heartbeats before he pulled away.
“That’s lust, not love,” I heard myself say.
“All that bottled blood is finally getting to you. You’re obviously losing it.”
Why was it when you said something a guy didn’t want to hear, he immediately countered by telling you what a loony bee-yotch you were? “I’m not crazy. I’m realistic. And you’re a commitment-phobe,” I said again. “P-H-O-B-E.”
He shrugged. “I just don’t think we need to draw any unnecessary attention to our relationship. The more low-key we keep things, the easier it will be to stay off Logan’s radar.”
I knew this and I also knew that he felt like he was protecting me. At the same time, I couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t fear Logan so much as he feared himself.
Maybe Logan was just an excuse for the fact that deep down, Ty was no different from every other made vampire out there. Maybe he was just interested in sex.
And maybe I was a crazy bee-yotch because as much as I knew I should shut my mouth and stop trying to piss him off, I couldn’t help myself. “It’s you. You’re scared to love me.”
“I’m not scared.”
“Then prove it. Tell me you love me.”
“I’m here trying to save your ass. Isn’t that enough?”
“Just say it.”
He eyed me for a long moment. “And if I can’t?”
“Then I can’t do this anymore.”
His expression went dark and thunderous and he looked ready to hit something. Or maybe kiss me again.
I vote for number two.
“Suit yourself,” he growled, and then he was gone.
I listened to the flutter of wings and barely resisted the urge to go after him. But I’d made a promise to myself. No more lust over love. No more dead-end relationships. No more.
And I wasn’t breaking that promise.
If Ty couldn’t say the one word I’d waited an eternity to hear, then we had no future together.
I fought back a wave of hot tears and tried to convince myself that I was one lucky vamp. After all, I’d seen his true colors now instead of later and avoided a useless waste of time.
Yay me.
Calling it quits with Ty turned out to be a bad omen of things to come.
As in twelve more rounds of Truth or Dare, eight games of Bunko, ten reruns of What Not to Wear and five solid days without so much as a glimpse of Mordred.
Yep, I was this close to crawling into a tanning bed and nuking myself. My aunt Sophie had gone that route with a unit she’d bought from QVC and it hadn’t been pretty.
Hence the only reason I kept my distance from the Lucky Charm Tanning Salon, Lonely Fork’s one and only fake-and-bake mecca.
A nice, clean death via stake I could handle. My folks could still have an open casket. Ty could cry a river and moon over my lifeless, but still perfect bod. I could still wear my favorite French couture. Maybe even a pair of kick-ass stilettos.
But being splattered in a million different pieces with nothing but my last pic (a photo from this past year’s Marchette family reunion, where I’d been stuck dancing with my cousin Milton, who’d had his fangs ripped out by an overzealous SOB who’d wanted to make a little side profit by selling them on eBay)?
Pass.
The
only pair of Manolos in a store full of Pay-less? I’d finally convinced my mother that all the Yaz in the world wouldn’t keep the inevitable from happening. The only way to prevent Mandy from popping out a human baby was to get her to change her mind about motherhood altogether. Who better to do that than a roomful of women who’d been there, done that?
Enter a dozen members of my mother’s Connecticut Huntress Club (half of which, to my utter delight, were now single). One phone call and they’d rushed to my mother’s aid in a show of female vamp solidarity. That, and my mother had promised them unlimited refreshments, free pedicures and the chance to win her custom one-of-a-kind Verner Pan-ton rug (to be auctioned off on the last day of the retreat). They had over eighty-eight children between them and plenty of horror stories to scare the cooties out of my trusting sister-in-law.
“… so I told him, Pierre, you can’t drown the maid in the Jacuzzi. If you want to get rid of her, chop her up and stash her in the crawl space like every other serial killer.”
A collective murmur of agreement went through the group of tastefully dressed BVs that filled LuLu’s Nails.
My mother had handed over her credit card for a full night of beauty. With the promise of a forty percent gratuity, DoraLee had happily opened up shop and called in every nail tech on staff. Each chair was full. Every nail file buzzed, every footbath bubbled. The place reeked of paraffin wax, nail polish remover, foamy lavender footbath and romance.
Did I mention that I’d invited DeWalt to mix and mingle with the ladies?
He was currently getting matching pedis with Veronique Chatois, a real estate mogul who owned half of Connecticut. Veronique had lost her husband when his plane had crashed in the desert and he hadn’t been able to find proper shelter before the sun had turned him into a piece of extra-crispy. She wasn’t interested in more kids (Pierre was her youngest and scary enough to turn even a vampire celibate), but she did love to ride horses.
Hey, it was a start.
“… one minute I’m sitting in the hot tub, relaxing my muscles, and the next I’ve got a dead body floating next to me. Which wasn’t a problem in itself. Georges was always crawling into the hot tub with me and he’d been dead for six hundred years. But this thing was bloated and bobbing and wearing a plastic shower curtain.”
Sucker for Love: The Dead-End Dating Novel Page 19
